


Annhiliation

by GrumpiestCat



Category: The Inside (TV)
Genre: Disturbing Content, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-14 09:13:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8007541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrumpiestCat/pseuds/GrumpiestCat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kill your father before your born, and you cease to exist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Annhiliation

It's easier after a couple beers. She thinks. It will be, she promises herself. The bottle is warm now, and it's nasty, and thank god that they didn't card her, because she doesn't think the expiration date on her driver's license would have stood up to scrutiny.  
  
The first time she bought beer, she was fifteen. The clerk was going to ask her for identification, but she just flipped her hair and not-so-discreetly pulled down her top, and the sight of her newly-emerged breasts, neatly packaged in a sheer bra, discouraged him. Someone had told her that beer tasted like piss, and she could say, with authority, that no, it didn't.   
  
She closes her eyes, as if that will ward off the memories, and somehow, the bottle falls out of her hand, onto the pavement. She doesn't remember letting it go, but she doesn't remember how she got here, either, so. A gust of wind upsets her hat - a huge, tan hat, with some bait company logo on the front, and she doesn't remember where she got this from, either - but she grabs onto it before it flies away.   
  
There aren't any lights on, no movement, and perhaps her memory is faulty. But this has to be a dream, and it would be a terribly boring dream if nothing happened. No, she's right. She has to be; how could she forget this?  
  
Or maybe that logic is faulty. How could she _not_ forget this? Why hadn't she? Do normal people forget about these things? Is anyone normal after this happens?   
  
A car starts up somewhere, and it takes her a moment, but yes, this is it. An objection lodges itself in her mind - is this possible? Will the universe explode? Does she really care?   
  
And then, oh god.  
  
He's shorter, maybe, than she remembers, or maybe it's just from where she's sitting. Warm beer has soaked her pants, but she doesn't move. He steps closer, no hesitation in his walk, no indication that he's seen her, and she only knows that she's pissed herself when she stands up and feels the hot liquid flowing down her thighs.   
  
She should wait, perhaps, until later; she's almost positive that there's a moment when Becky was in the shower, when he was alone, but even as she thinks this, she is moving closer, clutching the gun, trying to be quiet -  
  
\- but she blinks, and it's over. There's blood on her shirt now, her pants, and she can't find her gun, and it's everywhere. She's straddling him, his neck dark - did she cut it, it looks like she cut it - and when she blinks, the world goes red. She exhales, desperately sucks in a lungful of air, and she hadn't realized that she was holding her breath.   
  
There's an animal dying somewhere, except no, that's her; noise rumbling out of her mouth, making her throat ache. Becky moves closer, glancing down at the body only once.   
  
"What are you doing?"  
  
 _Shoot her._  
  
She practically jumps to her feet; she can't find her gun, but there's a rock. Small, but sufficient. Shoving Becky aside, she stands over him, waiting for him to speak again, but no, he can't be talking. His throat is gone, and the wound is too ragged for a knife, and what is that taste in her mouth?   
  
She drops the rock, bunching up her shirt and desperately using any clear spot to wipe her face.   
  
"What did you do?"  
  
 _It's too late. You're too late._  
  
She screams, to tell him to shut up, but it comes out as incoherent babble. The sound of footfalls, slow and tentative at first, faster once her screams get louder. Yes, Becky, run, but again, it comes out as gibberish.   
  
_Paradox._  
  
"Stop it!"   
  
Finally, she's capable of words, except no, that's Becky. What is she doing?  
  
 _I made you. I gave birth to you. If you kill your father before you're born, you cease to exist._  
  
"Liar," she whispers. But then there's a pressure building up behind her eyes, a light that washes out everything, and she can't hear herself breathing anymore.   
  
Maybe she'll wake up.

 

(fin.)


End file.
